In all honesty, I started seeing signs not even a week after I wrote that breastfeeding post. I spent my first night away from her, which I think set us on the eventual path of weaning. Then the events over the July 4th holiday weekend got us further off schedule with nursing. And from that point, there was a definite, steep decline in her interest in my boobs… to the point where I would try to nurse her at night and she would just point to her crib. Talk about rejection.

I was so sad to be giving up the nursing (and, let’s be honest, the only thing keeping me thin[er] right now), that I even tried pumping, which I haaaate. It was to no avail, btw; it seems the milk is pretty much gone.

So, Holden is a full-time cow’s-milk-in-a-bottle girl now. It’s a happy time because she’s becoming more and more like a little girl and less like a baby every day. But I’m wistful to be moving on from something we shared for the first year of her life. This watching-your-baby-grow-up-thing is weird.